Guitarist George Harris: A life in music

The weirdest gig George Harris ever played? That’s easy.

In the late 1970s the wiry guitarist, barely out of Seminole High School, worked in the backing band for Rock and Roll Heaven, a touring show that featured singers who “looked like” Elvis Presley, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison and other performers who’d sadly shuffled off this mortal coil.

Scheming bossman Danny O’Day, Harris recalls, “had the whole scam angle. The promo pictures had everybody sitting around with gauze on their faces – the implication being that somebody’s had plastic surgery to look like these dead rock stars. This is how sick it was.” Three of the “clones” were interviewed by a snickering Tom Snyder on national TV.

In truth, the performers looked nothing like the celebrities they’d been “surgically altered” to resemble.

When the spectacle hit Las Vegas, “Some guy from Rolling Stone came out and reviewed us, and panned it really hard, as he should have,” Harris says. “And it sold out for months, just on the strength of one article.”

Once the novelty wore off, however, the money dried up and O’Day sent everyone packing. Harris, by then, had already quit.

Happily, Harris’ integrity remained intact, and today the 63-year-old is one of the most respected musicians in Pinellas County. He’s the axman for Wednesday night’s “power trio” concert, called A Classic Rock Experience, at the Palladium Theater. The bandleader is iconic drummer Steve Luongo, and Angus McEachern is on bass.

It’ll be a loud concert, heavy on the likes of Cream, Robin Trower and the Jimi Hendrix Experience.

Steve Luongo

Luongo, a founding member of New York’s Rat Race Choir, was the drummer of choice for Who bassist John Entwistle’s solo band. He’s played with guitar legend Leslie West and other heavyweights.

He was also the drummer for singer Robin Zander, of Cheap Trick fame, who happens to make his home in Safety Harbor and is a pal of George Harris.’

Luongo and Harris have played together on many occasions, with the Zander band and in other configurations.

Wednesday night’s show, Harris says, “will be a blast.” All three musicians sing.

“This is the stuff I played in high school and haven’t played since,” he laughs. “It’s like being a kid.”

Find info and tickets for Wednesday’s show here.

Harris’ father was in motel management, and the family traveled constantly. George was born in Kansas and spent his early years in Mesa, Arizona. Which is where he played his first-ever club show – well, sort of – as the 6-year-old drummer in a combo most likely called the Mellow Delighters. On an Indian reservation (that’s where the Harrises were living at the time).

His mom told him the story, and that the group once performed on The Mike Douglas Show. “I don’t remember any of this,” Harris shrugs.

He does recall that his kiddie drum set wouldn’t fit in the car when the family packed up and moved to Coralville, Iowa. During their three-year stay in that midwestern town, young George picked up the accordion and took lessons. He learned music theory. He learned to read music.

Once rock ‘n’ roll entered his life, the decidedly uncool accordion gave way to the guitar. He got his first electric – a 1962 Gibson SG – in 1970, for the princely sum of $200. “I remember saying to my mom, you can’t play Black Sabbath on an accordion.’ But the beauty of it is, you can. Ask Weird Al.”

Dad was made manager of the Holiday Inn in Madeira Beach, Florida – about as far away, culturally, from provincial Iowa as possible – and George Harris found his world turning from black and white to technicolor.

Nothing would ever be the same again. In the polyphonic ‘70s, he devoured music – from hard rock and nascent metal to power pop to jazz fusion to … well, whatever else caught his ear.

On the beach, he became a frequent visitor to the neighborhood rock club, Skip’s. He was underage, but his dad knew Skip himself, so George was allowed in to watch and groove to the live bands.

He was accepted into the Seminole High jazz band, as bassist. The bandleader was John Lamb, who had played bass with Duke Ellington for many years.

Under the tutelage of bay area master guitarist Brad Carlton, Harris honed his technique and improved his ear. “He said immediately, I’m not going to teach you songs, I’m going to teach you how to teach yourself the songs. I’m going to teach you how to learn.”

More than 40 years later, Harris keeps one of his notebooks from the Carlton lessons in his guitar case.

He was still in high school when Carlton put him on the store’s instructional staff, teaching guitar to beginners. From there, he started getting club dates, “Whatever gigs I could get, like bad rock bands, and a lot of country music. That’s where I ended up going on the road for the first time.”

Mr. and Mrs. Harris, he stresses, were always supportive. They figured it would be a good experience. “I’m sure we made it sound a lot more glamorous than it was,” Harris laughs.

He began a lifelong love affair with the recording process at Panda Productions, an independent studio in Clearwater, where he’d been hired to play sessions. “I just kind of dove in and learned everything I could, and luckily I got to go meet people that taught me things,” Harris says. “And I was totally into it – wow, I got tape machines! And gear – reverbs and echoes – and I can do stuff!”

From the Tampa Bay music magazine Players, 1993.

Eventually, he bought Panda, and ran the place for more than 20 years. “We got the first big ProTools rig in Central Florida,” he recalls with pride. Guys who ran the other studios in town were dubious: “Stick with your tape machine,” they told him. “Nobody wants to record on a computer.”

It was in 1994 that the members of Stranger, then the hottest rock band in this part of Florida, came to Panda to record what would be their last album, Angry Dogs.

Guitar players being something of a closed fraternity, Harris and Stranger guitarist Ronnie Garvin were already acquainted. “Ronnie and I were like peas in a pod,” Harris says. “Get some loud Marshall amps, and a Strat and go for it.” Garvin died two years later.

Harris and Stranger’s lead singer Greg Billings formed a musical alliance that lasts to this day. “I remember he was showing Ronnie something, playing a guitar lick, and I was like ‘What the hell?’” Billings remembers. “And Ronnie looks at me and goes This guy can play. I’ll never forget that.”

Sidelined by the onset of polycystic kidney disease (PKD), Harris spent eight years undergoing dialysis – for the last three, he was hooked up to a machine 12 hours a day, every day.

Although he had to let the studio go, he continued to play gigs – with Billings, with Zander, and with AC/DC singer Brian Johnson, a resident of Sarasota. Sometimes, he remembers, he was too sick to stand up in front of an audience – but he played the gig anyway.

“I honestly to this day believe that’s the reason I’m here. The doctors kept telling me ‘You don’t know how sick you are, you shouldn’t be out doing stuff.’ But I’d say ‘What am I going to do? I’m not going to lay around all the time. That’ll kill me.’”

In 2015, Harris received a kidney transplant, and his health did a 180. He’s still playing with Billings, as part of the band the Stay Up Lates. “He’s got a great feel, and plays great solos,” Billings raves. “He sings high harmonies with me – he’s got a great ear, and he’s a great friend.”

These days, Harris operates Creative World Recording, a homey, full-service studio in Largo. Many of the area’s top musicians record there. The do it for the quality of the studio, sure – but most of them just like working with George Harris.

Whether he’s behind the mixing board or wailing on his Stratocaster, Harris is right at home now. And he still whips out the accordion every once in a while.

“What am I gonna do, become an accountant?” he says. “I don’t know how to do anything else. I’m un-hirable. I’ve never had a job in my life.”

At Creative World Recording: Harris with blues guitarist Damon Fowler. Photo by Bill DeYoung.